Spin the Dawn(26)

Edan simply burst out laughing. When he collected himself, he said, rather sternly, “The trial is down to four tailors. If you’re going to win, it’s time to show off a little.”

My brows furrowed, and I lowered my defenses. “You told me my shawl was too good.”

“For the first challenge,” Edan corrected. “I didn’t mean for you to become so underwhelming for the second one.”

“I wasn’t—” I groaned. There was no point in trying to explain to him how difficult it was to create a miracle in three days—without using magical scissors, anyway. “Why do you want me to win?” I asked instead.

He smiled mysteriously. “An enchanter never reveals his intentions. Let’s just say”—he pulled out my scissors from his sleeve—“these wouldn’t belong to any ordinary seamstress.”

“How did you get those?” I stood on my toes, reaching to get the scissors back. “Those are mine!”

“So there is some fire in you.” His smile widened. “Why should I give them back? Are they special to you?”

My pulse quickened. Those scissors worked miracles. I couldn’t allow the emperor’s Lord Enchanter to learn my other secret and get me kicked out of the trial.

“My father gave them to me,” I said, still reaching.

“Anything else special about them?”

“No,” I insisted.

He lowered the scissors an inch. “Say please.”

“Please,” I said grudgingly.

Edan held them out. I snatched the scissors back and thrust them into my pocket.

“You’re not a good liar, Maia Tamarin.” Edan tilted his head. “Those scissors are charmed. Any enchanter could smell their magic on you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I turned to go, but Edan blocked my path. “The slippers you made were very good, but with the scissors, you could have put Yindi, Norbu, and Longhai to shame.” Still not letting me pass, he crouched so our eyes were level. “If you think I’m going to send you home for it, you’re quite mistaken. You’ve piqued my curiosity, Master Tamarin. Enchanted objects do not work for just anyone.”

“What would you know about it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice sharp even though I was secretly curious.

“Plenty.” Edan chuckled. “If you want to win the trial, xitara, you’re going to need my help.”

I bristled at his arrogance. “Will you stop calling me that?”

“You don’t like it?”

“Why would I like being called a little lamb?”

“Ah. You know your Old A’landan.” Looking suddenly amused, Edan tapped his chin. It was pointed, despite the squareness of his jaw. Not an unpleasing combination—but odd all the same. “I’ll consider it—if you win.”

“I will win,” I replied. “And without your help.”

“You’re a strange one, you know.” He watched me with crossed arms and a smirk. “When the other tailors arrived, they tried their best to bribe me with jewels, silks, furs, even one of their daughters—all for some help. But you refuse when I give it freely.”

“You’re not helping me,” I said through my teeth. “You’re tormenting me.”

That dry chuckle again. “As you say, Master Tamarin. But a suggestion—try putting a pebble in your shoe so you at least remember which leg is supposed to be broken.”

With that, he bowed to me as if I were as highborn a lady as the emperor’s bride-to-be. Then he walked away, whistling a tune.

Accept help from someone so insufferable? I scoffed.

That he would even suggest it baffled me.

I turned on my heel, refusing to glance back at him. But I did watch my footing for the rest of the day—and hoped, anxiously, that I could trust him to keep my secrets.





CHAPTER NINE


The next morning was blisteringly hot, which was no excuse for Yindi and Norbu to lounge about the hall with their shirts off, but they did it anyway. I averted my eyes, especially from Norbu, whose hairy belly really wasn’t something I wanted to see.

For once I was grateful when Minister Lorsa arrived to announce our next challenge.

“His Majesty will soon have the pleasure of welcoming important dignitaries from the Far West. As such, Her Highness, Lady Sarnai, requires new clothes to greet them. She is aware that you are all capable of sewing garments in our local A’landan style, but she wishes to explore your range. The tailor who makes her a jacket that best embodies the Spice Road from one end to the other will win this challenge.”

My mind was already reeling. A’landi was the eastern end of the Great Spice Road, and Frevera the western end. What little I knew of fashion on that side of the world meant plunging necklines, a prince’s ransom of lace and brocade, and tight bodices—the opposite of A’landi’s modest, flowing styles.

Lorsa continued: “The four of you may go to the market this afternoon to purchase supplies. You will be given a stipend of three hundred jens, and half a week to complete the jacket.” He paused, the way he always did before he said something unpleasant. “Oh, and one more thing: it must be made of paper.”



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